Tasting Like Wine
by Heath07
Summary: (Warning: SLASH)Alias---The O.C When Sark comes to town, Ryan and Seth see each other in a new light.


Title: Tasting Like Wine

Rating: R -SLASH, sexual situation and coarse language

Summary: Warning: this fic contains slash. This is a crossover from Alias (Sark) and The O.C. (Ryan and Seth). When a stranger comes to town, Ryan and Seth see each other in a new light.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything...

Feedback: Please. It's always nice to hear what people thought.

Distribution: No, unless you ask first.

Notes: I don't know what made me come up with this, but it kept nagging me and nagging me, so I finally wrote it down.   
  


Tasting Like Wine 

____________

The clang of the bell over the door alerted Ryan to another customer. Ten minutes until closing after a monumentally bad shift and all Ryan wanted to do was go home and climb into bed. That was until he caught sight of the specimen who just came in.   
  


He didn't walk, he strutted. Italian leather shoes, very expensive. His lean frame straight. His suit crisp. Fitted and moulding to his form, not some cheap store bought material, but a pricey hand-made deal only rich men could afford, covered his body, but did not betray the tone muscle that was sure to be underneath. A cool irreverence glided off his shoulders like morning rain. His hair was a dishevelled mane of blonde spikes. His eyes a cold, deep blue.  
  


Those blue eyes turned to Ryan -pierced into him, more likely. Right through his chest.  
  


Ryan couldn't take his eyes away, couldn't make his feet move to save his life. He was in awe.   
  


"I'm supposed to meet someone here. A man. About forty," he said, calm and smooth, with a slick accent that slipped off his tongue like melted butter. He then added, "with glasses. Have you seen him?"  
  


Ryan listened intently, savouring every tantalizing vowel formed by angel lips and shook his head, unable to make his voice cooperate.   
  


Mr. Sark took a seat, his demeanor satiated like the belly of a lion just after feasting on a plump schoolboy.   
  


He wetted his lips with a sinful pink tongue. "Do you think I could get a glass of wine?"  
  


Ryan cursed his adolescence. He wiped a hand across his forehead, shifting his damp bangs back. "I can't serve you, I'm underage." He hated saying that; hated the way it sounded coming from his mouth, so innocent and childish.   
  


Sark looked over his shoulder at the door and then around the empty tables, even stretching his neck to look into the back where the grills and deep-frier were. "How old are you then?" He asked and it had to be Ryan's imagination that saw hope in those, now, less-cold eyes.  
  


"Eighteen," he lied.  
  


"Liar." He cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips into a bow. "You can't be more than...what, fifteen?" His eyes scanned the name tag on the boy's chest. Ryan. A suitable, commoner name. Still, it would sound sexy coming from his lips. For a brief moment, Sark considered asking him to say it, just so he could measure how it sounded, but thought better of it.  
  


Ryan was insulted. "Seventeen," he corrected, indignant. He began to scrub down the bar, sloshing lemon soapy water over the edge and onto the floor. It gave off an acrid, clean smell.  
  


"Close enough to eighteen," said Sark with a smirk, after a moment of watching. "I suppose I can get a bottle myself."   
  


Ryan was alone. His first night locking up by himself and by the wall clock it was five minutes until closing. It didn't look like this man was going anywhere and so neither was he. Not that he minded. He didn't mind at all, in fact.  
  


Sark stood, taking a slow graceful stride and then he was parallel with Ryan on the other side of the counter.  
  


His cell-phone chirped in his pants pocket. A shrill sound in the quiet of the restaurant. They both looked down at the same time while Sark's hand moved into his pocket and extracted the silver rectangle.   
  


"Sark," he answered, leaning against the counter letting a drop of water seep into his sleeve. His brows furrowed, his lips pulled tense. "Are you sure?" Ending the phone call, he placed his phone back. Wanton bursts of excitement shone in his eyes. "My contact, it seems, won't be showing up."  
  


"Sorry," Ryan offered, continuing to wipe away a stain removed fifty swipes ago. "Why not?"  
  


"He's dead," Sark said, blunt and even.   
  


Ryan's eyes widened and he let out a little gasp before he could stop himself. It's not that he was afraid--God knows he'd seen death up close and personal more times that he'd like to recount-- but the crisp way the man spoke of it; the way it rolled off his tongue like water, like it meant nothing, weighed on him.   
  


Sark admired the hungry look in the teen's eyes. He'd often been starving himself in his youth. Not for food. No, nothing that basic. Desire. A ravenous need to be gorged with affection.   
  


"About that wine?" Sark asked--finding Ryan's shock refreshing--coming around the bar and sliding to the cooler.   
  


Wine was like breath to Sark.. Good wine was like an orgasm. His poison of choice: Chateau Petreuse 82'. Of course the selection was minimal and he had to settle for a late vintage Merlot. Not bad, but not quite orgasmic.   
  


"Have a glass with me?" He wasn't really asking, it was just polite. Like a pretense, something you do to fill up time. He expected Ryan to drink with him. Demanded it. Wouldn't settle for anything less.  
  


Ryan Shrugged, shifting his weight.   
  


"Come along," Sark taunted, his arms going around Ryan's waste. His hair just brushed the younger man's cheek, pulling the strings on his apron loose.   
  


It fell to the floor, change scattering from a dismal night with poor tippers. Ryan didn't bother to pick it up, instead he stepped over it and followed Sark to one of the tables.   
  


Sark walked to a table, setting down two clean drinking glasses and the bottle of wine.  
  


Ryan put one of the overturned chairs, that was resting on the table, back on the ground. Swivelling it around on one leg, he sat on it backwards, straddling the wooden frame.   
  


The move was very appealing to Sark and he lets his eyes wonder over the boy in front of him with unabashed curiosity.   
  


He pulled the cork, sniffing the wine before pouring it like a rushing waterfall into a glass. "The gals go for that one?"  
  


"What?" Ryan asked startled.  
  


"That flashing your crotch around and mounting that chair like it's a whore. Do girls around here go for that?" He swirled the liquid around and around in a glass, taking a whiff, but never taking a taste. It was a game of willpower; how much could he torture himself before he gave in...before he took a sip.  
  


"No, I..." he attempted to stand, but a strong hand came to his shoulder, pressing him back down.  
  


Sark settled back in his own chair, his feet in front of him and a mellow smile at the corner of his mouth. "I like it. Keep it."  
  


Ryan couldn't stop looking at him. This man, Sark, fascinated him.   
  


A steady trickle of red flowed into Ryan's glass and then Sark pushed it forward.   
  


Ryan picked it up and brought it to his lips, gulping down a mouthful.   
  


Sark's hand covered Ryan's pulling the glass from his lips. "Slowly," he said, with that honeyed tongue. He could already see he'd have to teach this one.  
  


Ryan tried again, sipping while watching Sark over the rim. He sucked back the tartness with cruel disdain.  
  


"Good," Sark praised, lifting his own glass to dry lips.   
  


Somehow Ryan found Sark behind him, his body hot and pressing hard against him.  
  


Turning, his eyes dark blue with a haze of arousal, Ryan swallowed. "What are you-"  
  


Licking the curve of his ear, he whispered, "you're old enough and still innocent enough for me to corrupt you. Would you like that, Ryan?"  
  


Ryan shivered. Sark gave him almost no time to disagree, to digest his lewd suggestion, before his mouth was on his, pressing a demanding kiss against sultry skin. His fingers were damp from the sweating wine bottle and warm against the curve of Ryan's throat. His tongue urged his lips to separate and prodded inside the warm orifice.   
  


Sark pulled back, his mouth sticky, tanged with a tart-sweet flavour. White teeth, straight and bright nipped at Ryan's jaw.  
  


"You taste like wine," Ryan sputtered, his face flushed a rich pink.   
  


Sark laughed, deep and haunting.   
  


Ryan jumped up, putting the space of the room between them. Grinning, Sark took muted steps toward him.  
  


"Do I? I imagine that's absolutely intoxicating." His sarcasm wasn't lost on Ryan, and he felt stupid for the comment and a little bitter that he was being made fun of.   
  


Sark interpreted Ryan's pouting mouth perfectly and ran his fingers through his sweat-riddled, dirt-blonde hair. "I was just teasing," he said, and pushed Ryan back against the wall so he was unable to squirm away. "You seem like a smart kid, we don't need to play games, do we?"  
  


Ryan remained silent, stunned.  
  


Sark dipped his finger in the wine glass he was still holding. He traced the curve if Ryan's mouth with his index finger. Ryan opened his mouth and let his tongue snake out to lick his finger.   
  


"I didn't think so," Sark purred.  
  


___  
  


One minute Ryan was locking the doors to the Crab Shack, the next he was pinned against a wall, his shirt being pulled up and his skin covered by Sark's roaming hands. Hot. His hands were so hot, like coals straight from a fire and he could feel himself burning. Could feel the embers crumbling under the other man's fingers and tongue.   
  


Sark's hands slid down Ryan's back, scoring his skin with blunt fingernails, he jumped when they rested on the curve of his ass and pulled him forward against his own body that was pulsing with something primal. He rocked against him, a rhythm sinful and alluring.  
  


His hands moved to the front of dark, 'fuck me' jeans, undoing the button with an expert twist and lowering the zipper against painfully hard skin. The friction was something of dreams. And then his hands enveloped stiff, torrid flesh, thick and throbbing.  
  


Ryan groaned, deep and throaty. Sark's eyes were getting sexier and more dangerous the longer Ryan looked into them. His own hands fumbled with a leather belt and buttons, before Sark's pants puddled at his feet and his shirt roughly peeled off his shoulders and sailed across the room.   
  


Ryan's hand ensnared firm, taut skin and he stroked with gusto. Sark's head snapped back, the chords of his throat tight with gurgling that sounded like 'yes' and 'oh God'. Ryan smiled. He was a quick study Sark learned and he had a torturous streak that ran the length of his cock.

Sark's skin--unseen by the sun in quite some time--was white as soap, not pure though; he could never be that clean. Built like a swimmer, Sark was; impressive abs that didn't get shown off often enough; a dust of fine hair over soft skin; perfect not-too-dark nipples fitted over hard pecs and biceps made from everyday use, not pretentious weight lifting in some gym.   
  


Ryan licked his chest, slow, strong sweeps and snapping sharp teeth. He tasted like adventure.  
  


"My God," Sark growled. "You've got a mouth on you," he complimented. "Dear God."

Sark cradled Ryan's head as he brought them down to the plush mattress. The erratic cadence of their mixed breaths filled the room.   
  


Ryan's body was smooth and tan and scarred. Some small, hardly noticeable slashes and others much larger and still the angry red of abuse. Sark kissed each of them, paying special attention to one just above his tail bone, long and jagged and looked like it had been painful to heal. He didn't do it because he felt sorry for the kid. Nothing that sweet could ever be motive enough for him. He did it because the wounds intrigued him. Because for every scar there was a story behind it, and most of them were probably violent, torturous affairs and there was nothing Sark liked more.  
  


"Fuck," Ryan yelped when Sark took a particularly fierce nip at his shoulder.  
  


"My pleasure," Sark mumbled as he worked his way down as if it had been a command. Sark was tired of sampling, it was time for him to have his fill.  
  


______

The air was thick on the fifteenth floor and the view was all stars and wind-scattered clouds. The coastline was rough as the waves drove home, a steady pound against rocks and sand. Ryan stood at the double-plated glass window, curtain open, naked. His nose rebelled the pungent smell of sex in the air. A cigarette lazily burned away between his fingers. His lungs wished it was a joint.   
  


When he'd woken Sark had been gone sans note or any evidence that he'd been there at all. Ryan wasn't surprised. It wasn't the first time someone had bailed on him and it wouldn't be the last.  
  


He turned, getting his first good look at the room. Everything reeked of money. Silk sheets, rumpled and still slick with sweat. A plasma television not even bolted to the wall. Furniture that probably cost more than some would say Ryan's life was worth. He sighed. He dragged his fingers through his hair and stubbed out his smoke.   
  


Picking up his clothes that were scattered around the carpet, Ryan gathered them up and threw them into the bathroom. He let the water run hot before stepping into the shower. The little bottles of shampoo and soap looked delicate in his large, thick fingers. He lathered up, feeling every ache and sore muscle groan. He hadn't had sex like that since before leaving Chino, and even then he'd never known anyone as inventive as Sark had been. 

________

When Ryan got home, he could see scant light coming from under the pool house doors. The blinds were drawn and it was well past midnight, he knew it could only be Seth. He took a deep breath, the air smelled heavy. He prepared himself for whatever scrutiny awaited.   
  


The door had barely opened before Seth began to question him.  
  


"Where have you been?" Seth asked, moving from the bed where Ryan could see he'd been laying. "I tried the bat symbol, but I take it you didn't see it," he added, humourously.  
  


"Work," Ryan all but grunted.  
  


Seth's eyes narrowed. "The Crab Shack closes at ten, it's almost one a.m. Did those lobsters give you trouble? They're stronger than they look and much more cunning, too."  
  


"I...got tied up," Ryan said, faltering slightly as delightful images sparked to mind. His wrists were still smarting from that experiment.  
  


"With what? I was worried," said Seth, a lot less sarcastic.  
  


"You shouldn't worry about me, I can take care of myself," Ryan said, his words clipped. Seth looked hurt. "I didn't mean... Thanks for caring, but I'm okay. I ran into someone and...things happened."  
  


Ryan had seen that look before. It was the one Seth got when he was jealous. He'd never said as much, but Ryan had seen that distant, distrustful stare enough to recognize it now for what it is.  
  


"Were you with Marissa?" Seth asked, quiet, almost shy.  
  


"No, not Marissa. I...don't really want to talk about it."  
  


"Oh, okay. No...yeah, that's cool, or whatever," Seth rambled, not masking his anxiety as well as he would have liked.   
  


Seth sat close to the bottom of the bed, not speaking and not looking at Ryan.   
  


Ryan began to undress with extreme slowness, taking heed to his sore muscles. It might have looked like some sort of unconventional strip tease had his heart been in it. He could feel Seth's eyes on him as his pants hit the tiles.   
  


"I was with a guy," Ryan finally admitted, unable to take Seth's extreme silence.  
  


Seth fidgeted because that is what Seth did when he was nervous and an almost naked Ryan made him very nervous. "What do you mean with a guy?"  
  


Ryan pulled his shirt over his head and then shook it, scrunching up his nose. "I mean with, Seth."  
  


Seth's mouth opened wide and then he clamped it down hard. "Christ." There was an unnatural silence that descended upon the room. Seth felt the flesh in his pants begin to stir.   
  


Ryan began to pace wearing just a pair of black and white checkered boxers. "Shit. I don't know what I was thinking telling you that. Fuck, I really screwed this one up. Can you wait until I'm gone before you tell your parents?"   
  


He moved to the closet and took out a bag, rummaging through his drawers he began to fill it with the few clothes he came to the Cohen house with and zipped it up.   
  


Seth stood and grabbed a hold of Ryan's forearm before he could pull the bag over his shoulder. "Wait," he said, "I can't let you leave. Ryan..."  
  


"It's okay, I'll be fine on my own."  
  


"No, you're not hearing me. I've never admit this to anyone...I've barely admitted it to myself... Probably because it looks really odd when people talk to themselves, which is why I don't do it..." Seth stalled, letting go of Ryan's arm.  
  


Looking at Seth intrigued, Ryan prompted him to continue. "What? Admitted what?"  
  


"I...the prospect of being, you know, with another guy doesn't freak me out...it's actually something I've wanted to do. I mean, something Iwant to do."  
  


Ryan was shocked. He should have seen the signs. Hell, he did see them, he just chose to ignore them or chock them up to wishful thinking. A smile spread on his face. Ryan set down the bag.  
  


Seth licked his lips, sitting back down on the bed. "Uh...so, this guy..."  
  


"Yeah?"  
  


"Tell me about it?" Seth asked, a little insecure. His dick twitched in sudden anticipation.  
  


"You sure you want to know?"  
  


"No...yeah. He couldn't have possibly been as suave and debonair as me, with devilish good looks...oh wait, that's not me, that's you."  
  


"Seth."  
  


"Ryan," he mocked, pointedly. "Am I happy that you got it on with some other dude? No, not particularly. Do I want to know what it was like? Well, yeah, I guess I do. Unless...you'd be willing to show me?"   
  


Seth was half-kidding, but deep down Ryan knew there was truth involved, an honest-to-goodness curiosity and a burning need to find a port for all his raging hormones. Ryan didn't ever want that for Seth. If he and Seth were to be together, it wouldn't just be some late-night fuck while he was still half-drunk -both from wine and Sark. And not when he still felt used himself.  
  


"Not tonight." He didn't realize the magnitude of what he'd done until he looked back at Seth and saw the hurt in his eyes. "Look Seth, I didn't plan on this...if I had known that you...well, I can't take it back now, and I don't want to rush you into something you're not ready for-"  
  


"How do you know what I'm ready for?"  
  


Ryan took a deep breath and sat down beside Seth. "Well, you're a virgin right?"  
  


"What does that-"  
  


"Seth."  
  


"Yeah, so?" Seth protested.  
  


"I promise, Seth, I'll show you, just...just not tonight, okay?"  
  


Seth seemed to accept that. He stood and stretched an arm across his chest, gave one last longing look at Ryan and then pulled the door open. "Night," he said walking to the door and closing it behind him.  
  


Ryan pushed himself up the bed and settled in against the pillows. He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Jeez, what a freaking day.  
  


_____

Ryan woke up early for his shift, dressed quickly and stumbled out the door. Seth was waiting on one of the lounge chairs by the pool. The air smelled fresh, so different from the night before.  
  


"Morning," Seth greeted, "I thought I'd come with you to work, if you didn't mind."  
  


Ryan nodded his head. "No, that's fine."  
  


"About last night," Seth began.  
  


"It's fine."  
  


Seth grabbed Ryan's wrist before he could walk away in his usual brooding state. "No, hear me out. I didn't mean to push, it's just that all this time I've had these feelings that I didn't know what to do with and when I found out the truth, I guess I got a little..."  
  


"Overzealous?" Ryan supplied.  
  


"Okay, yeah, we can go with that. I was going to say horny, but yes, overzealous works."  
  


Ryan laughed and Seth joined in. "What am I going to do with you?" Ryan questioned, putting his arm around Seth's lanky frame and messing up his hair.   
  


"Punish me. I think that's the only solution," Seth answered with sarcasm.  
  


"Later, I promise," Ryan said, with seriousness, kissing his temple.  
  


"Well damn!"  
  


_____

Ryan could sense Sark's presence before he looked up to meet his cold eyes.  
  


"What are you doing here?" Ryan darted looks between Sark and Seth -who was now looking on with fascination.  
  


Sark looked bored. "Came to say goodbye."   
  


"You could have said goodbye last night, but you skipped out on me instead."  
  


He examined his nails then smoothed out his hand and placed it on Ryan's shoulder, digging his thumb into his collarbone. "I could've, but my ego didn't take too well to being called by someone else's name when you-"  
  


"I get it," Ryan interrupted, his face flushed. His eyes roamed to the stool Seth occupied and noticed that his face was a nice shade of red as well.  
  


"No matter now. It seems you've moved on already...which begs the question, what are you still doing talking to me? It was a pleasure though," he said, almost as an afterthought, biting his lip. "A real pleasure."   
  


Sark removed his hand and Ryan scuttled away to deal with a customer that had been shooting him death glares for the past few minutes.  
  


Sark watching him go without moving his body, just followed him with his eyes. Spotting Seth at the end of the bar, he made his way over to him. He leaned down, placing his hand on Seth's thigh, his breath fanning over his cheek, his lips just brushing the tip of his ear. Sark whispered bold words while keeping his eyes trained on Ryan's face.   
  


Righting himself, Sark smoothed out his suit, gave a half-smirk and tipped his chin at Ryan and stealthy walked away.  
  


Seth watched him go, tilting his head to the side in amazement.  
  


Ryan came behind the bar with dirty dishes, depositing them before he faced Seth.  
  


Seth smiled, his dimples glowing. "I can't be too mad at you for being with him. That's one pretty man. I'd 'ave done the same thing."  
  


"Hang on a minute." Ryan took a middle-aged couple's drink order distractedly and then rushed back to Seth's side. "So what did he say?"  
  


"You know, it's really not something I can say out loud, but I hope to put it to use in the future...that is, as soon as I figure out exactly how to do such a manoeuver. Really Ryan, I didn't think you'd be quite that kinky."  
  


Ryan's brows shot up. Seth caught his eye and winked.

________  
  


end.


End file.
